


Reading Between The Lines

by AvariceNSpice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Implied Underage Drug Use, Implied Underage Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Romance, Sibling Incest, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvariceNSpice/pseuds/AvariceNSpice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next generation isn't perfect, they've all got secrets buried deep. A spiderweb of lies and deception is what keeps them together, yet tears them apart. But as they say, everything rises to the surface eventually. In this case, to dig these little coins of hurt up, all you have to do is "Read Between the Lines". Drabble series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rosé Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned harry potter then Tonks, Remus, and Fred never would have died :,(
> 
> AN: So this series of drabbles will be about the next generation ( obviously ) They will all be short, and have at LEAST one secret in them.

Sometimes, Rosie thinks that she's a masochist. Not every day, but sometimes. 

Every now and again, she strips in front of the mirror to stare at all if the little bruises that constantly litter her body. They're not very bad, but they stand out proudly on her pale, freckled skin. She bites her lip as she runs her fingers over them while she recalls how she got each and every one. She lets out little gasps as she recalls the slight pain when she received the little spots of color.

The one on her hip appeared when he knocked her to the ground as they passed each other in the hallway.( He'd been walking with one of his slags at the time) The one on her stomach came after he roughly shoved her books into her stomach while they were waiting for their potions professor to come and let the students into the classroom. ( She'd made the mistake of accidentally bumping into him)   
She pretends that she hates it, but she doesn't. Deep (not so far) down, she can feel the little thrills when he calls her horrid names. Each one that comes from his oh so kissable lips feels likes sharp knife deep in her heart. Every little stab breaks her heart a little bit more. She knows that she should feel absolutely terrible every time he breaks off another piece,( and MOST of the time she does) but she can't help but think that even if its only to cause her pain, it means he at least NOTICES her.

Maybe it's not the kind of attention she wants.(maybe) But hey, beggars can't be choosers after all. Even if its the sweetest poison, when its coming from Scorpious Malfoy, she'll take all that she can get.


	2. Lucy Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This.... Is not my best, so you guys are getting lucky and I'm posting one of my better drabbles today as well. :p

screaming.

She's 3 years old and having an imaginary friend is the coolest thing ever. She names him Jack. He's her best friend and she loves him and even though she can't see him she doesn't care because she can hear him clear as day and that's all that matters.

She and Jack have all kinds of adventures together. Some dangerous, some not. Mummy gets mad though and so eventually it's time for little Lucy to grow up. And when you're growing up she learns that imaginary friends aren't all that cool anymore.

She tries and tries but Jack won't leave. He's always there and it not so fun anymore. He's always talking and she just can't think. For every year she lives, another voice is added o her collection of "friends". It's starting to get crowded in her brain. 

Her thoughts are a jumbled mess and she can't tell right from wrong anymore. She can't think with out hearing an opinion that's not quite hers. She can't talk without saying words that never belonged to her. 

Her real friends turn to enemies and shes picking them all off with words like knives. She's driving away the people she cares about and it's leaving her hated with love. They all care, but none of them want to get close enough to lend a helping hand because they all know that once they do they'll get burned. It hurts and she doesn't understand, but she DOES. She'll char them to a crisp and then beg for forgiveness, but they won't know that because all that comes out are harsh words that aren't hers.

The voices in the condemned cage that is her mind are all shouting things that simultaneously contradict and fit so well together. Every one is different yet they are all ultimately the same. She attempts to give them names to sort them out but then they started shouting so loudly that she couldn't tell who was who and who was she and who was NO ONE anymore. 

She's drowning in a sea of words and none of them are hers. Invisible hands pull her down and she's learning that the more she struggles the less it helps. She's surrounded in her head and she can't help but feel all alone.

She's screaming and sCrEaMiNg and SCREAMING and no one can hear her because its all in her head- but then again.... Maybe it's not. Maybe everyone and no one can hear her but it doesn't matter because little Lucy Weasley can't quite tell the difference between reality and fiction anymore. Perhaps she never could.


	3. James Sirius Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my best peices I think. :p

To him, there is no low. Its only as high as he's willing to go. Sometimes it's hard though, because when you're father's Harry Potter, there's always going to be expectations pushing you down.

 

He lives for the rush. He'll get it anyway he can. 

He's 13, it's Gryffindor against Slytherin. He's so high up, he can barely see the pitch. He's supposed to be looking for the snitch, but the damn thing is just too fast. He loses sight of it and stops to look around. The shiny gold sphere zips under his broom, hurtling in a steady downward slope. Without a second thought, he follows it. His angle is too steep and he's slipping off his broom. His heart is pounding and his adrenaline is pumping and all he can think about is how much this feeling is absolutely amazing. His grip loosens and he falls and he's so fucking scared and he loves it. He finds a way to do it every game until they finally kick him off of the team. He goes out late at night and does it anyway.

He's 15 and the Gryffindor's are throwing a house cup party. Thirty minutes in and somehow a cup of fire whiskey finds its way into his hand. He takes a sip and his blood catches fire in his veins. He drinks four bottles that night. 

He's 17, and it's his last year at Hogwarts. He's an adrenaline junkie and everyone nows it. He's done everything from jumping off the Ravenclaw tower to drinking his weight in alcohol. He's made it clear that he's up for anything. When a muggleborn witch with a bad streak longer than the Mississippi shows up with what saw calls "muggle magic" he doesn't exactly say no. He's been warned all his life of the dangers of drugs, but he knows why people still do it. He knows about the feelings they bring, the euphoria, the RUSH. He knows, and he wants that, he NEEDS it. Consequences be damned. He's scared out of his mind, but no one ever said he was completely up there anyway.

Gryffindor through and through, he's got courage by the spades. Or is it stupidity? James Potter doesn't really know. 

 

First born son of the one and only boy who lived, he was born at the top. They say that high up the air gets thinner. He thinks the lack of oxygen is why his head is so fucked up. One more hit and the pain will go away. Three more, and just maybe, so will he.


	4. Lorcan Scamander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another chapter...

Lorcan had always been the darker twin. More cynical and pessimistic than Lysander. He always was the more dominant one, anyone with eyes could see at least that much.

Because of Lysander's less daring nature, Lorcan was always the one to lead. Lorcan was the first born. He was the first to talk. He was the first one to get up and take those first unstable, teetering steps as a baby. Lorcan was the first one to run through the in invisible barrier at platform 9 and 3/4. 

Because of this, it was only natural that Lorcan was one to initiate their first kiss. It wasn't very sexual. It was more curious in nature than anything else.

They were both, of course, twelve when it happened. They had seen a sixth year couple kissing in the hallways, and had immediately been intrigued. Raised to be extremely open minded dreamers, nether found it odd to experiment with their new found interest.

They kissed many times after their first attempt in second year. Both of them had kissed boys and girls, but they always came back to each other. 

It was fourth year when they both decided they were ready to take their heavy petting just one step further. It was of course, Lorcan that that started it. Once finished, they each went to go try with members of the opposite sex. Though everyone knew that they had lost their virginity, no one new it was with each other. They both slept around a lot, though they never took more than one lover at a time.

Lorcan knew that if anyone ever knew, it would be him that would tell them.

That's why when Lysander marched up to him one evening with their best friend( and shared love) Molly Weasley in tow, he was quiet surprised. It was not the fact that Molly was with Lysander that surprised him, no it was the fact that their little Molly was immediately sandwiched between them by his brother. Before Lorcan could ask what the hell his younger twin thought he was doing, Lysander had grabbed his hand and shoved it up Molly's shirt while he proceeded to shove his tongue into her mouth.

It was most likely the fact that he was so bloody aroused by the sight that he was able to snap out of his stupor long enough to grab Lysander's rather fine ass as he fondled Molly's breast.

Lysander's head snapped up and his eyes rolled him everything he needed to know. He had told Molly about their less than innocent relationship. Though they both loved her and trusted her without hesitation, his and Lysander's relationship was not something they were quick to tell her about. Though they didn't care what everybody else thought, they were afraid that she would view them as disgusting and never talk to them again. 

Lorcan looked down at Molly's messy brown hair, bright blue eyes, and red, flushed skin. It seemed that Lysander had taken it upon himself to tell her their little secret, and she was more than receptive.

For the first time in a long time, he truly smiled. For once he was glad that he was not the first. If he had assumed the task of telling her, she never may have known. As he looked into eyes that reflected the love in his own, and was glad.


	5. Fred Weasley ii

Fred Weasley the second is not Fred Weasley the first. He was not his deceased uncle when he was born. He was not the first Fred when he was 5. He was not his outgoing, funny, prankster uncle when he was 11.

This fact was proven when he brought home straight O's on his report card during Christmas break.

He was ecstatic and happy and proud and a whole lot of other things any 11 year old boy had the right to be. Naturally he wanted to share his happy go lucky feelings with his family.

His mother was the first to congratulate him, his father followed soon after. Though Fred could tell that they were happy for him, he couldn't quiet shake the feeling that something wasn't quiet right. It was just the look in his father's eyes, like he wasn't really there. Fred hated it.

Despite his family's happy support, he still felt like his father was somehow disappointed. He spent hour after hour trying to figure out where he went wrong, and how he could fix it. Despite his efforts, in the end he just couldn't figure it out.

Then one late night, he went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. His parents had been in the kitchen talking at the time. He arrived just in time to hear his father telling his mother that he was nothing like the deceased twin. He heard George say that when he and his brother where in school, they always just barley passed their classes with minimal grades. He said that he was expecting ther little Freddie to be the same way. It was the end that got him though. He could tell it was a lie from the way he said it. He could tell from the slightly hollow, slightly broken tone. George Weasley had lied flat out when he told his wife that he was proud.

It was then and there that he decided. He was a daddy's boy to the max after all. Like any other little kid, he was only looking for approval.

He decided that he loved his father enough to give him back his other half. He decided that he owed his mother the chance to see at least one form of her one time love. It was then that he decided to stop being Fred Weasley the second and start being Fred Weasley the first.

So he stopped studying so much. He started spending more time with his father in his joke shop. He signed up for quidditch. Hell, he even stopped dying his hair black and let it go to its natural weird red/brown hybrid color.

Fred lost himself a little more every time he he did these things. He felt himself slip away with every joke. He found himself harder to recognize every time he looked in the mirror. He knew he got a little faker every time he pretended to be mad when Gryffindor lost a game.

But, he tucked these dire feelings away. He thought that as long as he could get one of those truly happy smiles from his mother, as long as he could hear the approval in his father's voice, that it was alright to let himself fade a little bit.

After all, he was giving his family back someone who they'd lost. If you think about it, a gift like that is worth it. So it didn't matter that he was surrounded by friends, but so alone. It didn't matter that he was only a shadow of someone else. It didn't matter that no one saw past his famous name. It didn't matter that he had no idea who he was anymore.

It didn't even matter that he had perfect little lines littering the smooth skin on his torso. No, as long as he was the red headed jokester, it didn't matter at all.


	6. Louis Weasley

If there was one thing that everyone knew about Louis, it was that he loved intimacy.

Soft brushes of the hand. Fingers entwined in hair. Hugs. Lips pressing together. He loved them all.

It was especially obvious that he also loved to go just a little bit  _deeper_. Push his limits a little bit  _farther_. He loved that rush he got every time skin met skin. He savored every muttered word, coveted every moan and sigh. But above all else, he couldn't live without the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin.

It was because of these reasons that it was safe to say that Louis Weasley was addicted to sex.

But, no matter how hard he tried not to be, he was addicted to just one more thing. She was everything he shouldn't have.

She was dark in appearance where he was light. Dark brown, almost black frizzy waves and curls were barley kept in check whereas his blonde waves were always perfect. Mocha colored skin randomly splattered with freckles contrasted with the perfect milky paleness of his. Pale silvery blue clashed with her Big deep brown eyes. He literally towered over her at an even 6 feet to her tiny 5" 2'.

She was the intelligent Ravenclaw to his sneaky Slitherin. She was the shy little girl who stood demurely in the background, while he was the outgoing Casanova that stole the spot light. She saw the world clearly through her rimless little glasses while he saw the world in a blur through his haze of parties and sex. She was innocence where he was sin.

She was not the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. In fact, she was slightly chubby. She wasn't the most graceful, or talented either. But despite these things, he wanted her anyway.

Louis Weasley always got what he wanted. And even if she was 14 while he was almost 17, he'd have her , Ember Rayne was everything he shouldn't have. To bad he was to addicted to care.


	7. Victoire Weasley

She's drowning.

Drowning in a world with to many lights. To many cameras, and not enough time.

She curls and presses so that her honey blonde locks fall JUST right. She glosses and frosts so that  
her blue, blue eyes shine oh so bright.

But for what? She doesn't really know anymore.

She knows why she used to do it though.

The first reason was because she wanted to live up to her mother's pristine image. She wanted to be the perfect blonde bombshell that everyone else wanted-no NEEDED to be.

She wanted people to pause when she walked into a room. She wanted to hear the gasps full of surprise. She wanted to be able to make girls jealous and make boys beg.

So she did. She perfected herself in every way she knew how. And for a while, that was enough.

Then she had her first boyfriend. She loved the power she had over him. She loved making him bend to her every whim. But more than anything, Victoire loved breaking hearts. She loved the ultimate rush of power she got very time she saw the look of utter defeat on her latest conquest's face.

And then that became her motivator. It became her goal to crush as many hearts as she possibly could. To steal away boyfriends from unsuspecting girls. All just to get that ultimate rush.

She could get anyone. All it took was a flip of her sunshine curls and a flash of her veela smile and she had every male in the room wrapped around her little finger. It was so easy and she loved it and she craved it and it was absolutely-fucking-vantastically perfect.

Then she met Teddy. Teddy: the boy everyone loved and every girl wanted.

She grew up with him, but she never really KNEW him. He was always just the boy with the turquoise hair was just a little to old to be in the circle of cousins she hung out with during family gatherings.

She never bothered him and he never bothered her. But of course, the peace couldn't last. He was after all a young male who was not related to her. In her book, that meant that she had to have him.

She thought it would be easy, a simple toss of her golden mane and a bat of her eyelashes an he would be ensnared in her trap. But she was wrong.

It didn't work. She lost him in the end, losing herself in the process. She'd spent too much time trying to break a boy who had a skeleton laced with titanium. It took her exactly 20 minutes to realize where she had gone wrong. She'd fallen in love with the boy. She'd become enamored by the heartbreaker, when all she'd wanted to do was be the heartbreakee.

He'd knocked the angel off her pedestal and oh how she had fallen.

Once she had craved the flash of a camera, the thrill of the lime light. Now though, now it just left a bad after taste in her mouth.

Teddy had shown her what it was like to have your heart broken, and she'd finally had a taste of what she'd been dishing out. No longer was it fun.

No, now she was drowning. Drowning in rejection. And the real kicker? Even with all of her practice she just couldn't quiet get the hang of learning how to swim.


	8. Molly Weasley ii

He's trying to live up to a legend, she's trying to break away from a curse.

It is here, she knows, that these two worlds meet in an explosion of color. His a cookie cutter pallet of black and white, hers a vibrant rainbow of imagination.

They dance constantly on edge around each other. Their family thinks they do it from hate, only they know its truly from fear.

He fears that she will tell. Tell the world that he is not who he pretends to be. She fears that he will show. Show the world that she is just an imperfect copy of the oh so perfect Molly Weasley.

Molly Weasley ii knows that in one wrong move she could fall into the set mold of who she never wants to be. She loves her grandmother, she really does, but that is not who she wants to be.

No, Molly wants to be the girl bathed in color. The wide eyed dreamer. No expectations, just freedom to be whoever she wants to be. Unfortunately for her, with a name like Molly Weasley, it was never to be. It's not what's expected of her. No, she's supposed to be the level headed mother figure who everyone adores.

But she can't do that. Perhaps it's because she's never even tried. She thinks its simply because that's not who she is. Not who she wants to be.

She knows her cousin Fred is on the same predicament. To many expectations, and not enough freedom. They are alike in that way, and she thinks that this should bring them together. If anything, it rips them apart.

He's resigned to playing the part, while she tries her hardest to brake away from the role. She thinks she understands.

Without her twin dreamers to keep her head in the clouds, she'd be in the same exact place. Yes Lorcan and Lysander have always let her be who she wants to be. That in its self is the ultimate reason why she loves them.

They help her be who she  _needs_  to be. Not who she's expected to be. Molly knows if Fred had someone like them, he could brake away and be his own person. She knows that she could be this person, but she also knows she can't. She can't because if she does, she could lose herself along the way. And as selfish as she is, she just couldn't risk it. She hates herself for it, but she also loves herself too much to care.


	9. Scorpius Malfoy

Hate is all he knows. Pain and violence are what he's been raised on. He knows nothing else.

Everything about him is cold, right down to his frigid heart. With words like shards of ice he cuts through the masses, leaving a carnage of broken hearts and bruised egos in his wake.

He can't help it.( Or maybe he can, he's never tried.) He barely has any friends, for almost none can stand his prickly nature. The one person who's ever stuck by his side is as much of a pessimistic bastard as he is. Girls come and go with his moods. Like ice cream, he picks a new flavor every month.

Despite his horrid personality, they flock to him. Maybe it's the platinum blonde hair, or perhaps it's the flawless pale skin. Hell, he doesn't really care. As long as he gets a good fuck every now and again to relieve his tension, he's good to go.

He always throws them aside in the end. It's like a pattern. A pattern they never seem to see. He's a bastard who enjoys causing pain, and he knows it.

Tears and pleas don't phase him. cries of pain and agony always seem to get him off. It's like that with everyone. Well, at least  _almost_  everyone.

She was an enigma. So shy, so innocent, yet she had the ability to put him on edge every time she was near. Her fiery presence was the only thing in the world that could set his ice cold being aflame.

She had a mass of frizzy red hair that he had often wanted to run his finger through. She had soft curves that he wanted nothing more to grab hold of in the throes of passion. Her warm, innocent hazel eyes made him want to do nothing more than corrupt.

He found her absolutely captivating, and worst of all, he knew she felt the same way about him. Despite the obvious lust he knew he had for her, he knew that their relationship was not that simple.

He often wanted to do nothing more than to hold her in his arms. He wanted to have simple conversations about everything and nothing just to hear her talk. He wanted to be the one to wipe away her tears every time she cried. ( Which was rather hypocritical if him considering he was often the one who made her cry in the first place.)

Rose Weasley made him feel things, foreign things. She made him feel love, when all there was was hate. She made him feel happiness when he was in a constant state of anger. She made him feel warm, even though he was always so, so cold.

She made him feel all these things, and he didn't know how to handle a single damn one of them. Scorpius Malfoy only knew hate. He only knew pain and suffering and hurt. So that was what he gave. He pushed her in the hallways and he called her names an every other nasty thing he could think of because that was the only way he knew how to show her that she made him burn.

Her subtle, yet stinging wit that she used when she thought no one would notice. Her love of learning. her gentle temperament that could quickly turn to that of an enraged mother dragon when those she cared for were in trouble. She had burned a hole in his ice encased heart and wormed her way in.

Scorpius only knew hate. He did not know anything else. To him, sadness, happiness, and everything else all boiled down to that one dreaded emotion. Love and hate were one and the same to him, and he knew that little fact was going to tear both him and his precious little Rose to pieces. Yes, Scorpius Malfoy had fallen hard for Rosé Weasley and he was going to hate her until the end of time.


End file.
